The Book Nobody Would Shut Up About
by Plastic Box
Summary: Well, it couldn't be any worse than Renesmee, right?


**A/L: Has this been done already? The whole 'let's put three of the main characters of Twilight in an AU setting, throw in some clinical insanity, morbid obesity and barbeque chips, take out some vampires, werewolves and soppy romance and let the lulz begin?' No? Well I'm putting my mark on this, bitch. Enjoy!**

**Obligatory Disclaimer: I do not be accomplishing ze owning of ze _Twilight_. Alalalala.**

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"Edward, my dazzling love! There you are! Wake up, my darling, I have some wonderful news!"

Groggily, the poor, unsuspecting redhead sprawled out on the floor of his living room, surrounded by children's toys and an array of colourful bottles that had probably once housed cheap alcoholic beverages opened one eye, then the other, and after making sure that it was indeed his spouse addressing him and not some psychopathic escapee from the local clinic down the road, proceeded to sit up and stare blearily at his hideous, morbidly obese wife.

"I assume this 'wonderful news' you have woken me up at some obscene hour of the morning in order to tell me involves the sudden and unexpected demolition of the office/glorified closet at which I work? Or perhaps you have finally decided to leave me and run off to Finland with that Jacob Black fellow?"

To both of these perfectly rational and realistic conjectures on the lanky redhead's part, Bella Swan merely shook her head, chins jiggling.

"No no no! This news is even more fabulouser!" The last non-existent word in Bella's statement was punctuated with what the brunette probably though was a graceful twirl. Edward merely gazed sceptically at his wife, eyes full of chagrin.

"I doubt it."

Bella either did not hear her husband's cutting remark or chose to ignore it, her mood growing fabulouser by the second. "And would you like to hear this absoloutely splendifferous news, my love?" Bella did not wait for an answer. "Oh Edward!" She cried, running over to the redhead, hoisting him up and embracing him far too tightly for said redhead's liking. "I'm pregnant, can't you tell?" She placed her husband down and stepped backwards, allowing him to observe her. Edward peered at her stomach, searching for any sign of a bump between the rolls of fat.

In her early twenties, Bella had been married to Edward for nearly three years. During these three years, about eighty-six percent of their conversations were comprised of the brunette chagrining about how her lips were too full for her jaw line, her nose was too thin, her forehead too large and, overall, how hideous and boring she felt in the 'dazzling' presence of Edward. Needless to say, she had been under the influence of some pretty heavy medication.

And so, in order to shut his wife up, Edward had arranged some heavy aesthetic operations for the brunette, which were to be conducted by one of the most renowned cosmetic surgeons in America, Mike Newton. Unfortunately, it appeared that the young man held a rather large and fearsome grudge against his patient for rejecting him numerous times in his youth. As a result, there had been more than a few 'slips of the scalpel' (as Mike had put it) during all six of Bella's surgical appointments.

She had let herself go a bit since then.

Edward, having found no sign of pregnancy upon initial examinations and was not about to attempt to look any closer, stared at his wife expressionlessly.

"Oh."

"'Oh', Edward? '_Oh'? _Is that the best you can do? Your beautiful wife is pregnant with an almost-equally beautiful child (but not quite, because no-one can quite compare to _my_ beauty) whom after her birth I will proceed to christen with a stunning, breathtaking, pretentious and unnecessarily lengthy name, and all you can say is '_oh'?_"

Edward, rather than being swayed by his wife's speech - which was likely almost as pretentious and unnecessarily lengthy as the name she was bound to give their child - wondered instead how Bella had managed to pronounce a parentheses. Nonetheless, being the gracious and loving man that he was, he pasted the obligatory 'adoring father/husband' look on his face and tried again.

"Well, love, what I meant to say was 'Oh, how delightful!'. However, I had to stop myself, as I felt a coughing fit coming on and it would be much to my chagrin if I discovered that I infected my beautiful wife and soon-to-be child with hateful, malignant and most _un_dazzling micro-organisms." Edward then hacked up a glob of (equally undazzling) phlegm to prove his point.

Bella, however, who had only heard the words 'beautiful wife and soon-to-be child', had all but forgotten her husbands previous verbal misdemeanour.

"I wonder if our beautiful baby daughter will have my cascading mahogany locks? Or perhaps she will be gifted with my tender, supple porcelain skin, unmarred and translucent regardless of years spent upon this earth? She may even be lucky enough to be graced with a full, curvaceous figure such as that of mine…"

Edward, who had been married to Bella for roughly thirty years, realised with not a moment to spare that his lovely wife was going off on a monologue. Of course, this spelled trouble for the brunette's scrawny husband, as said monologues usually involved the suffering of both physical and mental abuse as well as severe and recurrent ear damage on Edward's part. Fortunately, his older, larger and far more resilient foster brother usually took it upon himself to intervene, and today was no exception.

"Y'know," mumbled Emmett around a mouthful of god-knows-what, "I think you two should go and see a sex therapist, or something." He swallowed loudly and grabbed another handful of the stuff he had been eating (which turned out to be barbeque-flavoured chips), stuffing them into his mouth as well as a large portion of the fist that was crushing them in an iron grasp. Given his IQ score, Edward was impressed that he was actually managing to do two things at once. "I mean," he continued, "isn't this, like, the twelfth child so far?"

"The ninth, Emmett, the ninth." Edward sighed world-wearily, rubbing his forehead and walking about three metres towards the kitchen that was essentially a part of the living area he had previously been occupying. Sinking into one of the bar stools lined up against the island counter (an impressive feat, considering the stools were made of wood), the redhead rested his cheek against the cool granite of the bench top. Bella was still giggling and prancing around the main room of their apartment like some sort of demented pony. Emmett, never one to waste an opportunity to irritate his (very easily irritated) brother, pulled up a seat next to Edward and offered him the bag of chips he had in his meaty grasp. Seeing that Edward was not planning on eating them anytime soon, Emmett grabbed a handful of the ungodly crispy things and proceeded to arrange them artfully in the redheads tousled hair.

"Y'sure you don't want me to make some calls, bro?"

"Positive, Emmett. However, a divorce lawyer should suffice quite nicely, thank you."

"Rightio then. I'll see what I can do." His masterpiece completed, the large brunette that was not Bella then proceeded to exit the scene. Edward did not even bother shaking the barbeque chips off his head, so full of chagrin was he.

Bella, meanwhile, had ceased twirling. Paying no heed to the hateful expressions that Edward was shooting at her from his resting place on the kitchen bench, she turned to her husband.

"Oh! How terrible! It appears I have neglected to reveal to you the awe-inspiring name I have chosen for our beautiful baby daughter!" At this point, Edward did not even bother to point out that she may not necessarily have been pregnant with a female. Quite frankly, he did not give a flying rat's behind whether the hellchild spawn-of-satan his wife was inevitably going to give birth to in nine months or so was a female, hermaphrodite or the next Antichrist.

"Well, Edward? Aren't you going to ask me what I am planning to name our little girl?"

Well, it couldn't be any worse than Renesmee, right?

"Of course, love. I was just so awestruck and enraptured by the wonderful piece of news you had presented to me not ten minutes ago that I had gone into shock and was unable to form a coherent sentence."

"That's nice, Eddy." Edward visibly twitched. "Anyway, I was thinking something along the lines of…"

This was it. The big reveal. Bella always paused for dramatic effect before unveiling the heinous, atrocious, detestable and utterly abhorrent name she had single-handedly chosen for the demon foetus she would soon give birth to. Of course, roughly ninety-nine percent of the excitement this pause was meant to convey was lost on Edward, and instead replaced with a feeling of burgeoning, all-consuming dread.

"Jalice Rosmett Swullen!"

Dear God.

"Well, my glittering love? What do you think? Is it not utterly gorgeous? The most resplendent, pulchritudinous name you have ever heard in your forty-eight years of existence?"

Edward blinked. He was, for lack of a better phrase, not a happy man, not one bit. His overlarge brother was determined to set him up with a sex therapist, two weeks ago his foster parents in Venice had sent him an expired lottery ticket for his birthday (which had been over two months prior to the gift arriving in the post), he had a raging hangover, a splitting headache as a side effect of said raging hangover, and to top it all off, his wife had christened their unborn child with a name that topped Renesmee 'Nessie' Carlie Cullen in terms of utter repulsiveness.

Indeed, Edward was most full of chagrin, and the declaration of the name of his barely-conceived daughter did nothing to put him in a better mood. Not even his heavy anti-depressant prescription pills and a huge amount of self-medication could reverse the long-term effects of the day's events.

Standing from his perch on the wooden bar stool, the redhead ambled slowly towards his wife. Bella opened her arms wide, fat rolls wobbling, probably expecting some sort of romantic gesture from her temporarily clinically insane husband.

Instead, however (much to her chagrin), of some passionate R-rated action and the impossible conception of yet another child, as Bella may have been hoping for, she received several broken bones, extensive brain damage, a massive fee for incurred damages and a rather lengthy divorce contract already signed, in flowing cursive, with the initials 'E.C.'


End file.
